An excerpt from my review in the Jan. 3, 2004 American Conservative (available in full to electronic subscribers on Saturday)
Today         ought to be a new golden age of movies. Special effects, cinematography,         and sound are all steadily progressing. Audiences can now absorb more         rapid editing. Budgets are bigger than ever, averaging $64 million in         2003, so sets and costumes are better than ever. Able character actors         are everywhere, and today's big stars have broader skills than their         glamorous but repetitious predecessors.
       
        Still, judging from 2004's festival of ineptitude, Hollywood is drifting         ever farther from consistent competence. The weak links have been         halfbaked scripts. Would-be screenwriters throng workshops, so there         should be abundant talent available. Sadly, writers and the producers         who hire them have worked themselves into self-defeating ruts.
       
        Most remakes fail because producers commission updatings of         over-achieving films, such as Frank Sinatra's "The Manchurian         Candidate," where everything clicked. In promising contrast,         Sinatra's "Ocean's 11" was a notorious under-achiever. The Rat         Pack signed on to play WWII commandos reuniting to knock over five Las         Vegas casinos so they could film during the day and croon in the stage         shows at night. But they forgot to schedule any snooze time, so they         sleepwalked through their roles.
       
        Still, the core concept of an action-comedy caper showcasing male         camaraderie was appealing. After Ted Griffin penned a sharp new script         for "Oceans Eleven," veteran producer Jerry Weintraub and ace         director Steven Soderbergh, an Oscar-winner for "Traffic," had         little trouble assembling a killer cast. "Ocean's Eleven" was         one of the biggest hits of 2001 with adult audiences, who appreciated         its 1940s Howard Hawks feel.
       
        The visual chemistry of the gang's leaders was memorable because Brad         Pitt exemplifies the scruffy, boyish-looking stars of post-Sixties pop         culture, while George Clooney, who is only three years older but appears         to hail from an earlier generation, is a throwback to Clark Gable's era         of glamour, when actors tried to look like grown men.
My published articles are archived at iSteve.com -- Steve Sailer
 
 
 
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